...And Then There's The Shopping

I’ve tried to talk about a wide variety of topics about life in Singapore; the people, the cultures, the food, the religions, the food, the sights, the food, etc. And yet most people, when asked why they would like to visit Singapore, usually say that shopping is a top priority. Frankly it’s world famous for shopping and it isn’t hard to see why. While most cities have a few shopping malls to complement the well known high-streets, Singapore city is basically one long procession of ultra modern, air-conditioned multi-level shopping malls, each bigger and better than the last.
Shopping is a national hobby, with the locals being just as keen as the tourists on getting out there and hunting down a bargain or checking out the latest fashions. While I’m trying to keep hold of my disdain for the throw-away materialistic consumerism that seems to have many of us in its grip these days, I have to admit that sometimes the siren call is too strong. Everybody needs a bit of retail therapy once in a while, and then it’s time to whip out the credit card and, to quote my Dad, “stroke it ‘til it smokes”.
Today was one such day. To be fair, it really was retail therapy, not just wanton greed that set me off. That kicked in later. I’ve strained my right foot and each time it flexes when I walk I get a painful burning sensation deep inside. Because it’s not tender on the outside and there’s no bruising I think I did it stumbling around in one of my cheap pairs of shoes. As any of my girlfriends who have been shopping with me would agree, I am a bit of an anomaly among women (apparently) because I don’t really like buying shoes. Since we’ve lived here I’ve stuck to ‘cheap and chic’ sandals grabbed on the run, much to the detriment of my tootsies, I’m sad to say. So today I headed off for some decent footwear. I ended up at Isetan, fabulous department store and iconic Orchard Road venue, fast becoming one of my favourite destinations. I’ve taken every female visitor we’ve had there and by now, I should be betting paid a commission.
As I entered, searching for shoes amongst the accessories section on the ground floor, I saw it. Literally stopping me in my tracks it was a Fornarina tote bag so utterly perfect for me it was as if it had been tailor made and placed on display for my personal gratification. Big enough to chuck all the gear in I need when I take the kids to the park, strong and sturdy material in a won’t-show-the-dirt-easily colour, with colourful cutesy bits and baubles for detail. Behold: it is The Bag.
Giddy with joy at the sheer bliss of possessing the perfect bag (obviously the greed bit had kicked in by now and my morals are out the window), I floated over to the shoes, tender tootsies barely touching the floor.
Yes, I found a pair of extremely comfortable orthopaedically correct shoes from Scholl which will cherish my feet on said walks through playgrounds and parks. And yes, I did once again succumb to the shopping demon who put me in the way of a gorgeous little pair of black heels with leather bows (!), totally perfect for when we go out in the evening. Check out the photo and tell me you’re not jealous! They will be a welcome replacement for my only other pair of black heels (affectionately called my “slutty secretary” shoes by hubby) which don’t fit comfortably in this warmer climate.
On the way back to the car I managed to ease my conscience by finally finding a gift for a friend back home, so I hope that it in some way restores the karmic balance.
But frankly, armed with The Bag and planning when I can first use The Shoes, I really don’t care.